Kalanchoe
by MLS1984
Summary: Lucy hated working at a Sewage Treatment Plant, but that's what you get. When you do stupid things you pay for it. Luckily, she had her friends Jaime and Jose to keep her company. But, what happens when that is lost? Part 2 of Trilogy.
1. The Daily Grind

**Chapter 1: The Daily Grind**

I have a crappy job.

_Literally._ I work at a sewage treatment plant.

Insert lame fecal joke here.

You know how I got this job? My juvie parole officer hooked me up with it after they let me out. What was it I did to warrant being placed in a juvenile detention facility- you ask? Oh, you know, same ol', same ol'. A couple of C-Felonies involving Ginsu knives.

And for legal reasons- that's all I can tell you.

Oh, by the way- it gets even better! I'm a woman. The _only_ woman. Lucy Gomez, chief of waste management. Har-de-har-har.

…Okay, you can stop laughing now!

Surprisingly though, the only thing particularly gross about the job is the stink that wafts in through this water-logged chamber behind the 'Office'.

A voice broke into my mental whine. "Hey, Lucy!" Bob shouted cheerfully.

Bob's the security guard. Not really sure what he was guarding, but he was cool. Fifty years old, a wife, three kids- and a grandbaby on the way too. Nicest old bugger you could ever hope to meet.

"Hey, Bob!" I replied with equal merriment. The old fella always put me in a real shiny-happy kinda mood. "How's Penny?" I inquired.

He laughed. "Oh, she's still in denial. Totally refuses to admit that she's tickled at the idea of being somebody's granny."

I grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Ah well, she'll come around eventually."

He smiled. "You go give those boys down there hell, kiddo. Have a fine day!"

I strolled to the stairwell, calling over my shoulder, "See ya at lunch, Bob! You're buyin'!"

His whoops of laughter followed me all the way to the Office, and I chuckled softly. Ah Bob, this job would blow without you!

As I opened the door, the smell hit me like a gentle slap to the face. But, before I got two feet in I was greeted with a pair of male voices shouting, "Surprise!"

"What the fuck!" I yelped, startled.

Those same male voices started to laugh hysterically. I hated when the two of them pulled shit like this. Just because I'm the only woman doesn't give them the right to-

Then I got to my desk.

There was a mountain of cheese Doritoes and Reese's peanut-butter cups sitting there, and four twelve packs of cherry coke- all my favorite junk food.

I blinked, "Alright, you two- what's going on?"

Jaime and Jose suddenly sandwiched me between the two of them in a group hug that had me gasping for air.

"Happy Twenty-First birthday!" chirped Jaime.

I glowered at them. "My birthday was three months ago."

"Hence the surprise." Replied Jose, grinning from ear-to-ear.

I smirked, and then, much to my chagrin, I giggled. "You fuckers."

The two of them just gave me wide, innocent eyes. I laughed.

My two coworkers just smiled devilishly at me.

Jaime Olivera and Jose Reed were the only two other schmucks who got stuck with this nasty-ass job. Jose was twenty-four, gangly, and had eyes that were so naturally wide he looked like an overgrown child. Those eyes also made him as cute as a bug's ear. He was also as stuck with this job as I was. He told me that he had wanted to be a writer, but it didn't pan out- he had shown me the rejection letters to prove it.

And then there was Jaime. Jaime was- I kid you not- six-foot-fucking-ten. He also weighed about two hundred and seventy-five pounds. Surprisingly though, he didn't look fat. He was built like the kind of man that Vince McMahon would take one look at and weep with joy. But, he was exactly sixty years old, so the pro athlete thing wasn't looking that promising. The scary thing was that he actually _enjoyed_ working here. He reveled in having only minimal human contact.

Plus, he was a freak about conspiracy theories and urban legends.

"Oh Luce- you in there?" Prodded Jaime.

I broke out of my fog. "Huh?"

"Don't worry, you didn't miss much." Grumbled Jose.

"Oh hush, you fetus!" growled Jaime. "Why do I get stuck with babysitting duty?" he muttered, glancing heavenward.

Jose just rolled his eyes. I ignored that, and put a hand on Jaime's arm. "Jaime, I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, I was just caught off guard by this touching gesture." I said gently, motioning to the Junk Food Mountain. And the Academy Award goes to…

He repeated what he had been saying before. "I'm telling you two, there are _alligators_ in the _sewers._" He insisted.

See, I told you so. Urban legends!

I smiled serenely at him. "Sure, Jaime. And, where did this come from?"

He held up a newspaper. "A viable source." He sniffed.

I took the paper from his hands. It was the _Silent Hill Tribune_. A local city newspaper? Printing _urban legends? _That was odd.

I studied it further.

The front page read;

**_NUMBER OF MISSING REACHES ALL-TIME HIGH: 186 NOW GONE_**

****It went on to postulate that perhaps a plague was slowly destroying the quiet community.

I read further:

_No one knows what is being done with the missing of this community. There are no signs of struggle, no signs of violence, it is as though the once serene mountain town is slowly disappearing from existence._

In other words: they didn't have a fucking _clue._

I had visited Silent Hill on a vacation once when I was a kid. I had enjoyed it immensely. To think that something was up there doing _something_ to the people-

I shook off the thought.

"Fuck." I muttered darkly. I gave Jaime his paper back. "Let's just get to work."

**:AUTHOR'S NOTES: And so it begins! This is the story of the person who wrote the note before you have to kill the Underground Pass Monster with the hair dryer in SH3. **

**You all might be thinking what I was thinking- that the author of that note sounded like a guy- well, that's what I thought too. But, dammit, I felt like writing a girl heroine into the mix, and since I had already had an idea for the story of this poor loser- I figured, 'What the hell?'**

**Also, any and all discrepancies are mine. I couldn't find anything about whether or not this level was actually a sewer- that was the impression I got when I played the game. Plus, the juvie stuff- if it's wrong- is my boo-boo. I added that solely as an explanation for the knife skills. R&R PEEPS!**


	2. Losers Like Us

**Chapter 2: Losers Like Us**

_"Hello." Said a voice behind me._

_Curious, I turned to find an attractive man smiling at me._

_"Hey." I replied, returning the smile. Obviously, this was a dream. As Sewer Girl, I was a natural guy repellant. I mean, I'm not a dog or anything, but certain…**aromas**… tend to turn boys off. No way in hell this Tall-Drink-of-Hottie would give me the time of day in real life._

_Well, that was my first clue. The second was the fact I was standing on some old carousel. Definitely **not** the workplace._

_The whole contraption was in shit-shape. The metals were rusted; staining everything an odd shade of red. _

_I stared at the horses. Hey, wait a minute, are they-_

_-**writhing?**_

_A hand cupped my chin; forcing me to look away._

_"Hey." Said the guy. "A man likes to know that he's keeping a girl's attention." The comment sounded playful, but I thought I caught the undercurrent of another emotion hidden under there._

_I smirked. "Sorry Smiley- got distracted."_

_He grinned. "You know, you remind me of a redhead I used to know."_

_"Oh, yeah? What's she up to these days?"_

_"Don't know. Haven't heard from her in a long time."_

_I chuckled._

_He gave me a funny look. "What?"_

_"For a guy created from my subconscious, you're awfully…**layered.**"_

_He tilted his head in a bird-like manner. "Is that what I am? Your dream man?" he asked, amused._

_I blushed, then snarled, "Drop dead!"_

_He laughed. "Too late!"_

_Still figuring that this was a figment of my horny little imagination, I stalked up to the guy, leaned in as though I was going to kiss him, and purred, "So, why **are** you in my head?"_

_He gave me a wicked smile, and leaned in closer. A hard thought would've had us on each other. "What makes you think I'm a dream?"_

_Damn, I like him. Why do my hot dream-guys have to be smart-asses? I'm **so** fighting a losing battle._

_"Well, stud-muffin," I started, rolling my eyes. "you got a name- or what?"_

_He gave me that devious smile again. "Garrett."_

_I quirked an eyebrow at him. "What kinda wussy name is-"_

_"**LUCY!**" someone bellowed into my ears._

With a shriek, I fell off my desk.

I was so **not **surprised to see Jaime towering over me. Whenever these two chuckleheads decided to bug me- it was Jaime that got dispatched.

Jose knew that if he fucked with me- I'd snap his spine like a potato chip.

I roared at them, "**WHAT?**"

They giggled- yep, **giggled.**

"You were asleep." Chirped Jaime

"And drooling." Added Jose, helpfully.

I gave them the worst, most hateful glare I could muster.

They just kept snickering at me… and grinning too…oh, God- they're plotting something…

"What?" I asked. Suspicious, who? Me?

The giggles became full-on laughter.

"You two are such **chicks.** Out with it!"

It was Jaime who finally got it out. "So, kiddo- who's Garrett?"

They both grinned at me.

Clearly it was time to remind them who the boss was.

An hour later, Jose was lying in a limp pile on the floor, and Jaime was grinning maniacally at me.

"I love it when you do that." He said, chuckling. "It's just so damn funny."

Jose-the-Pile just moaned from his position on the floor.

Jaime looked at his fallen comrade. "Well, that's what you get for messin' with her."

From the floor: "You…started it!"

"Yeah, but I can't take **him**." I pointed out.

The whining continued, "You coulda grabbed her Jaime!"

Jaime gave me wide, innocent eyes. "I don't hit girls."

I hugged the big dummy.

He smiled at me.

"Well, what is this- a funeral?" I demanded. "I thought you two declared today my birthday?"

Jose staggered to his feet, giving me a wounded look. "I don't think I want to party anymore- you're mean!" He pouted.

I strode over to him. He squealed in fright.

Behind me, Jaime snickered.

I leaned in, and offered him a coke.

He looked at me in suspicion. "What's in this?"

"Would I ever do anything to-"

They cut me off. "Hell, yeah!"

I laughed. "Fuck it- let's party!" I yelled. I cranked up the radio.

**Jose's POV **

**I don't how I managed to dance half the night away, given the pounding Luce inflicted on me- but I did.**

**We spent most of the night just dancing, eating the junk food that me and Jaime bought for her, and arguing over who got radio dibs.**

**Bob popped in a couple of times, accusing us of being drunk. We laughed. There wasn't a speck of alcohol in the place. We were- honest to God- high on life.**

**Around midnight, Luce declared it was her turn at the radio. She cranked up that song, "Lonely No More", and grabbed Jaime.**

**I froze, wounded. **

**See, I have this… _thing_…for Lucy. I've never had the guts to tell her, though. **

**Like she'd ever give a loser like me the time of day!**

**Luckily for me, they didn't seem to notice when I went into the flooded back chamber.**

**:AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yeah, I know this is kind of a short, 'Blah' chapter. I just needed a filler chapter. Plus, this story may (Or may not) be shorter than 'Garrett'.**

**R&R People! Your reviews keep me going!**


	3. A Town Without Pity

**Chapter 3: A Town Without Pity**

It was about half past one in the morning when I suddenly realized something…

"Where the fuck is Jose?" I muttered.

Jaime laughed, "Probably off somewhere, moping like a puppy."

I snorted, "Oh, come on! I can't have wounded his pride **that** badly!"

"Didn't say that it was."

"So, what else is there?"

He gave me a funny look. "Oh, like you don't know!"

I was confused. "Don't know what?"

He sighed. "Ah, to be young and brain-dead again."

I was getting quickly irritated. "Oh, for crap's sake- **spill it!**"

He looked at me like I was a child. This pissed me off more.

"Jose is…well… he has this…**crush**… on you."

"Oh, bull!"

"Don't gimme that look. He does!"

I sighed, "Did you see where the idiot went?"

"I think he moped off towards the back room."

I grabbed a flashlight. "Well, then I guess that's where I'm going."

I went to the door, growled at the "Danger!" sign, and went in.

"_Jesus, it's fucking **dark** in here!"_

_I stepped into the room, wondering what the hell Jose was thinking._

_"Jose!" I called. "Jose! Get your ass out of this hole in the wall- right now!"_

_No answer. I bet he was messing with me- the prick._

_"Jose- are we gonna have to have another one of our 'talks'?" Nothing got him to move faster than the threat of violence._

_Still no answer. Where the hell did that little maggot pop off to?_

_I flashed the light around. God, this place creeped me out. The little metal bridge in the middle always made me skittish- as though something might pop out of the water and chow down on the unwary passerby._

_The water rippled- I squeaked in fear._

_Then I realized what was up. "Okay, you scared me fair and square. Come out now!"_

_**Still** no answer._

_"Damn you! **FINE!** Stay, stay and be a baby!"_

_I turned to leave, and that's when I saw the entrance wall._

_It was **saturated **with blood. **Saturated!**_

_Nausea welled up in me, and I turned the flashlight towards the water…_

_Tentacles stared back at me._

_I fainted._

I woke up on a couch in one of the upper offices. Someone had put a damp rag on my forehead.

I looked up to see Jaime and Bob hovering over me, worried looks on their faces.

"You okay, kiddo?" asked Bob gently.

In a feeble voice- I whispered, "Where's Jose."

The sadness in Jaime's eyes gave it away before I got my answer.

A voice behind me replied, "He must've tripped and fell in. How many times must I tell the three of you **not** to drink on the job?"

I knew that arrogant tone. I turned around to see Alan Kaufman staring back me, an irritated look on his face.

"We weren't drinking, you dipshit!" I yelled.

Just before Kaufman decided to let me have it, Jaime came to the rescue. "She's right, sir. You can check out our room. Do blood tests, or urine samples- or whatever the hell you people do. We weren't drunk. Lucy's just upset because our friend is dead."

I felt my heart sink at the confirmation of Jose's demise.

Alan snorted, and then stomped off.

"Prick." Snarled Bob.

They turned back to me. "You okay?"

I replied flatly. "No."

Jaime looked at me. "When I saw you laying there on that bridge, I panicked. You were all limp, and white- like a doll. I just snapped you up and ran for it. It took me about an hour to register all that damned blood."

I got queasy again. The boys noticed.

Bob gently pushed me back against the couch.

Jaime looked at me. "You rest for a little bit longer honey. When you wake up, I'll take you home."

I leaned back against the pillow. Hazily, I said, "You know, Jaime?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe there are gators in the sewer after all."

_"Hello again." Chirped a familiar voice._

_I was laying down on something hard, and unpleasant. I sat up._

_Great, just great. I'm in a church. God, I hate irony-_

_-and **punning**! Dammit!_

_Garrett was sitting on the altar- of all places. With the black jeans, t-shirt, jacket, and boots- he looked almost like a demonic minister._

_"Sacrificing a virgin today- are we?" I grumbled._

_"What?"_

_"Nothing- never mind. So, why are you bugging me now?"_

_"Oh, come on! I know you like me." He grinned._

_"I like puppies too- doesn't mean I dream about them every night."_

_"Touché." He hesitated, then added. "Well, maybe I like visiting you."_

_I snorted. "Yeah, right! And pink fairies fly out of my ass every night!"_

_He chuckled. "**Lovely** analogy. Can I use that later?"_

_"Whatever. Look, I just lost a friend today, can we please just not do this? Go back to whatever part of my brain you were vomited out of."_

_He sighed, and there was a touch of almost sadness in his eyes. "I wish I didn't have to be here, but I do."_

_"What the hell does that mean?"_

_He hopped off the altar, and sat down in the pew beside me._

_I stared at the stained glass. There was something awfully strange about the pictures depicted there…_

_"What church is this, anyway?" I asked._

_"It belongs to a group that was known as 'The Order'."_

_"The Who?"_

_"The Order. They were a Silent Hill cult that torched a seven year old alive to get her to give birth to 'God' for them. But, in reality, the 'God' was a demon."_

_"Holy shit! That's awful!" I gasped._

_He nodded. "But, the girl escaped. And she learned the truth about the god- that it would destroy mankind if she let it be born. So, she fought not to let the monster be birthed. She was weak, though, and was forced to ask her champion to fight this horror for her. Her champion was her adoptive father."_

_I stayed quiet. I was riveted._

_He continued. "Her father fought through countless horrors in an attempt to regain his beloved daughter. But sadly, the leader of the cult- with the help of a corrupt townsperson- managed to complete the ritual. The girl gave 'birth' to the god. Though, it wasn't in the conventional sense. The creature grew too large for her womb, and enveloped her entire body. It eventually tore it's way out of her body- shedding her as though it were a snake, and she were nothing more than an uncomfortable layer of skin."_

_I shuddered at the imagery._

_"Enraged at the loss of his beloved daughter, the man relentlessly fought against the creature. Though many thought it to be an invulnerable deity; he defeated it with mortal weaponry."_

_I grinned. Good for the guy!_

_"Because of the strong connection that had developed between the man and this unfortunate girl- she was able to return to him briefly. Without words, she expressed her love for him, and gave him the one thing no one thought possible: a baby."_

_I felt tears beginning to run down my face._

_"And so, he took this innocent baby- not knowing whether or not this was the return of his beloved daughter- or the rebirth of the entity that had actually **wanted** the creature to be born. He ran into the night; never to be heard from again."_

_He stopped, and looked down at me._

_"So, what happened to them?" I asked. I had the feeling that that was my line._

_"I don't know. But, I have the feeling we'll learn soon enough." He replied wistfully. He didn't seem thrilled about the prospect._

_I was intrigued. "So, why tell me all this?"_

_He smirked. "Why not?"_

_"You got me there."_

_He grinned at me. "Besides, weren't you the one bitching that you needed a little excitement in your life?"_

_"How in the hell did you- oh wait. I forgot. You're a figment of my imagination. And as such, you know what's going on in my head…" I grumbled._

_He laughed. "Still in denial- are we?"_

_"Denial? Who's in denial? You're the one in denial! You're not real!"_

_His laughter grew harder. "Oh, I am. Or rather, I was. I'm dead now."_

_It was my turn to chuckle. "Uh-huh."_

_"What? You don't believe me?"_

_"Hell, no."_

_"Then go and look me up. My name is Garrett Daniels, I was thirty-two when I died. I had a wife, and three kids. Since everyone but the girls died, a friend of mine named Delia Carver took them in. We were all from Silent Hill, but she lives in Washington State now; this nice blue-collar town called Centralia."_

_I sneered, "Then why don't you go haunt her Casper?"_

_He looked pained. "I can't. I can feel where she is, but I can't **get there.**"_

_"Well, fuck, why don't I go?"_

_He looked at me. "Why would you do that?"_

_"This way I can prove that this is all a figment of my imagination."_

_He laughed. "Sorry, young Padouin, but there is much you have yet to learn."_

"Luce?" It was Jaime again.

"Do we get vacation time for this shit?"

"Yeah, Kaufman's givin' us a week off."

"Good." I said, grinning.

He gave me a quizzical look. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to Centralia, Washington!"

**A/N: According to info I read off the Internet- Silent Hill is on the west coast. Hell, in SH3, Douglas' license plate says California. So, I searched for a quaint little west coast city. Lo and behold!- Centralia, Washington. I love the irony that goes with the upcoming SH movie; "Silent Hill: Centralia"! Quaint, huh?**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Silent Hill. Me wish me did, but me don't. Don't sue- me poor!**

**Literary Alchemist: Thanks for the input. I had totally forgotten about that other body. But, I don't know think I'm going in that direction. Ah well, keep reviewing- I like it when people review!**


	4. Like Night And Twilight

**Chapter 4: Like Night, And… Twilight**

Centralia, Washington; is a fucking depressing place.

The moment I passed into it's borders, I _knew_ I was in trouble. The place was _gorgeous_. All green, and postcard-y. Yuck. I had to go to McDonald's to detox from the shiny scenery.

And even the damn Mickey D's was clean!

That's so _WRONG!_

All I could do was sit there; numbly eating a one-dollar cheeseburger. I wallowed in my inferiority complex. I stared out the window.

**_"Why are you so useless! You can't do anything I tell you! Why can't you be more like Violet? You're worthless!"_**

_**"Aunt Karen- please!"**_

_**Metal glinted in the sunlight.**_

_**"NO! DON'T!"**_

****Shaking off the thought, I thumbed through the travel brochure, sipping my orange juice.

**Many elements of Centralia's history can still be found today in the brick and stone of the 12-block Historic Downtown District recently recognized by the National Register of Historic Places. Cobblestone streets, wide sidewalks, vintage lighting and benches greet downtown visitors. Historic murals and buildings highlight a walking tour of the area, starting with the 1912 Centralia Union Station that recently underwent a $4.8 million restoration.**

Blah-blah-blah. In summation: Centralia's pretty- you should live here!

And they sure as hell made good on their promise. I bet the ghetto was spiffy, too.

_Yuck._

I got up, tossed the brochure in the trash, and left.

I had a destination. The Carver family residence- Seminary Hill Road.

After about forty-five minutes of soft cussing, I came to a farmhouse.

I'm in the Twilight Zone- it's the only feasible answer.

Oh, well.

I walked up to the front porch, and knocked on the door. No answer.

I stood there for a minute. "Hey- anybody home?" I called.

Still no answer.

Rolling my eyes- _I knew I was nuts!-_ I started to turn and leave.

Halfway down the stairs, I heard the door open, and a young, female voice said, "Hello?"

I turned to see a girl in her late teens standing in the doorway. Pretty little thing, too. Chocolate brown hair fell in a straight curtain to her waist, and she had wide, brown eyes.

And a pink, butterfly shaped birthmark at the base of her throat.

I smiled engagingly at her. "Hi, my name's Lucy Gomez. I'm looking for Delia Carver- might she be home?"

She looked at me quizzically. "That's my mom. Do you know her?"

I thought of about a thousand perfectly good lies, but then I decided, _fuck it_. "Actually," I started, "I was hoping that I could talk to your mom in regards to a man named Garrett Daniels…"

Her eyes widened slightly. "She's not home yet, but she should be soon."

Awkwardly, she added. "You want to come in, and wait?"

I smiled again. "Sure. Thanks."

She led me through the front door.

I took one look at the house, and damn near whistled in admiration.

Everything was so _fancy_. The house looked like some rustic masterpiece out of a magazine. However, I noticed a plasma screen television hanging off of one wall, and a state-of-the-art home office in one corner.

I just had to ask. "I know that this is probably in poor taste, but since I can only manage a studio apartment- I gotta ask. What's you mother do for a living?"

She smiled gently at me. "It's okay. You're not the first to ask. Mom's a toxicologist at Providence-Centralia Hospital."

This time I did whistle. "Impressive."

She smiled, and nodded shyly.

She led me into the Dining Room, and had me sit at the cherry-wood table. She went to the fridge, "Can I offer you a coke?" she asked.

"Sure."

Procuring two frosty cans, she came to the table, and took a seat across from mine.

We sat in a tense silence. Then:

"So, you got a name, kid?" I prodded…rather bluntly.

She blushed faintly. "Leah Carver."

"That's pretty."

"Thanks."

Silence again.

Suddenly, I heard someone barreling down the stairs.

"Leah!" bellowed the voice. "Who the hell was that?"

Leah grimaced. Within moments, I understood why.

A girl turned into the room- a girl who appeared to be the dark half of Miss Leah, here. They were identical.

I was a tad shocked. This was my first set of twins- sue me!

However, unlike Leah, this one wore her hair in a tasteful Mohawk that reminded me of that girl from that model show…. Naima! That was it!

Along with her Naima-hair, the girl seemed to have a preference for black. Black wife-beater, black jeans, black studded belt, and black boots. A black choker sparkled a bit at her neck, and there was no birthmark.

"_Anna,_" chided Leah gently. "Don't be rude when we have guests!"

The bitchy-looking one- Anna- just snorted at her sister. "Like that'll ever happen."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. Leah's a sweet kid, but I really liked this one.

She turned to me. In a very Simpson-esque tone, she said. "I'm Anna Carver- who the hell are you?"

I smirked. "Lucy Gomez."

An anxious look on her face, Leah hissed to Anna, "She wants to talk to mom about _Garrett Daniels._"

Anna goggled at Leah, but recovered quickly. She turned to me. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yep."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but I heard a car pull into the driveway. Within minutes, a door opened, and a woman yelled, "Anna Evelyn Carver! I thought I told you no friends over for another-"

She made it into the dining room.

"Hello." I chirped.

She was a lovely redheaded woman in her mid-thirties. She had a very striking air to her- like she'd seen it all- and hadn't been very impressed. She was wearing a brown suit with a green blouse. She also looked as though she was hell on wheels- and used to doing things her way.

In the same blunt tone as her scarier daughter, she asked, "Who might you be?"

I smiled; trying to be as non-threatening as possible. "My name is Lucy Gomez, and I wanted to talk to you about a man named Garrett Daniels-"

She cut me off, turning to the twins. "Upstairs- _now!_"

Squirming, Leah obeyed; though she had to practically drag Anna away.

"So, do you-" I started. Doctor Carver held up a hand, cutting me off.

We sat in silence for a minute. I suddenly heard the distinct sound of a door shutting.

"Anna!" Warned Carver.

Above me, the door slammed shut this time.

Doctor Carver chuckled. "Always knew that that one would be a handful. She's just pissed off that I got one up on her. She hates that."

She looked at me, "How do you know about Garrett?"

I told her the whole thing; the nap, the party…Jorge…

She listened intently, and nodded whenever I paused.

"And that's why I came after you." I finished.

She smiled wistfully. "Garrett… I only knew that pain in the ass for about a day, but I still find myself missing him sometimes. Especially when I look at the girls…" She sighed.

It took me a minute to register what she had just implied. "Wait… you and this guy had _kids_ together?"

She laughed. "God, no! I'm the adoptive mother. Garrett, his wife, and their son- they all passed away when the girls were still babies. He charged me with taking care of those two little wenches." _Wenches_ seemed to be an affectionate term for the twins. I smirked at that.

"Forgive me, but then, why do they have your name?"

"See, I'm not biologically related to them. Like I said, I only knew Garrett for one day. Plus, I was a twenty-year-old college student. There was no way in hell the government would've let me keep them…"

"Unless you pawned them off as yours." I finished.

"Exactly."

"So, what exactly did happen between you and this guy, Doctor Carver?"

"Where are you staying?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

"At the King Oscar Motel."

She made a face. "Oh, hell no. Go back to the hotel, get your stuff, and come over here."

I just blinked at her; not getting it.

She grinned, and there was a hint of something younger in her- and terribly mischievous.

"Welcome to Hotel Carver!"

**:AUTHOR'S NOTES: God, that was such a filler chapter. Also, I figured, if I didn't end it there- it might never end! I have decided that this story could be a stepping stone to an official sequel to Garrett's story. **

**All information on Centralia was acquired off the Internet. If I messed anything up- I'm sorry. I couldn't find much about the real estate and what was where. So, if you're from there- and I screwed up- My apoligies.**

**R & R People- I NEED REVIEWS. Lol.**

**:NEXT TIME: Luce gets to know the Carver family better- and learns more about a certain specter that won't leave her alone…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Pizza, Booze, and a Haunting in a Pear Tree**

About an hour-and-a-half after my little chat with the Doc, I was up in the guest room, unpacking my stuff.

Conveniently, I was putting my underwear into a drawer when:

"How do you know about my dad?"

"Gah!" I dropped my panties all over the floor.

Leah squeaked, and burrowed into the door a bit.

"No, no, it's okay." I rushed to reassure her. "You just spooked me."

I motioned for her to come in, and she just stood there, frozen, eyeing me warily.

"Oh, come on, I don't bite…_ hard._"

She giggled softly, and stood just inside the doorway.

I laughed. "Get your little behind in here, missy. I can't stand to be alone in an honest-to-goodness _cyan _colored room." And I wasn't kidding. With all the white furniture, and white curtains, I thought I'd fallen into an issue of _Better Homes and Gardens._ It was unnerving as hell.

She smiled, and came closer. She sat on the bed.

"Well?" She prodded.

"Well, what?"

"How do you know about my dad?"

Great, just great. The kid does have a spine, and she's using it in the worst place.

I squirmed, but didn't answer.

Her face fell a bit, and she turned away from me.

She said something, but I couldn't hear her.

"What?"

She repeated herself, and I had to lean in to hear it.

"I dream about my dad sometimes." She whispered.

I went still; wishing that I was somewhere else. I so didn't want to have a conversation like this with some kid I didn't even know!

"Do you now?" I replied, just as softly.

"It's weird, but he talks to me. I tell him about my day, and whatever's going on in my life, and he listens. And sometimes, we just sit and stare at the glass in the window."

I looked at her. "What glass? What window?"

"Well, in my dream, I talk to him in a bunch of different places, but it's mostly in a chapel."

Holy crap…no pun intended.

I sat down on the bed beside her, and she leaned against me.

"Where do the two of you talk?" she asked.

At this point, I was fervently wishing myself away. I tried to answer her as gently as possible. "Honey, I don't know what's going on with my dreams. I doubt I could actually speak to your-"

Leaping to her feet, she cut me off, "Wait a minute!" she cried, dashing out of the room.

"Okay, whatever." I muttered to an empty room.

Moments later, she returned; a framed photo clutched tightly in her hand. She handed it to me. "Is this him?" She asked.

I stared at the picture, and I felt myself blanch. It was a family portrait. A man, a woman, a little boy, and two baby girls. The little boy was caught in the middle of a laughing fit, and the mother and babies seemed to be especially happy too. The man, however, just stared at the rest of them. He practically glowed with paternal pride. It was sweet…

It was also the guy that kept popping up into my head! Dammit!

"Well, is it?" Prodded Leah.

I sighed. "Yeah. It's him."

She looked at me like I was the proverbial sun and moon, but she didn't say anything.

From below us: "LEAH!"

She smirked, clearly suppressing a smile. "Yeah, Anna?"

"PIZZA'S HERE!"

I grinned at her. "Doesn't that bellow get annoying?"

She sighed. "Yeah, but I love her anyways. Besides, she makes up for the….beastly… behavior in other ways."

I bit back a smile. I got the feeling that this one never swore. _Ever._ It was almost cute.

I stood up. "Shall we?"

Leah smiled her shy smile, and we headed downstairs.

**11:00pm**

After a couple hours of arguments, homework, projects, and duels over the last slice of triple cheese pizza, the girls had turned in for the night; both complaining about their impending finals.

Me and the Doc, however, decided we needed some grown-up time. She pulled out, much to my surprise, a couple of bottle of Molson's.

"Why Doc," I mused, "shouldn't you have pulled out a bottle of some fancy-pants Cabernet, or something like that? Doesn't beer clash with this Martha Stewart image you're flaunting? And besides that, shouldn't a rich, doctor-lady abstain from booze on a work night?"

She gave me that devilish grin again. It was totally at odds with the elegant woman that was sitting across from me on the black-leather couch. "I've got tomorrow off. And on top of that, every gal needs a hobby." She purred; quirking her eyebrows at me.

I laughed. "You got me there!"

She quickly sobered though. "Back to the point…"

I squirmed. She smiled gently at me.

"Do we have to?" I whined.

"Well, hell: isn't that why you came to me?"

"Yeah." I grumbled. "But the beer is nice too."

She laughed at that; a happy burst of sound. "Yeah, it is."

"So, what **is** up with the Martha Stewart crap all over this house? I mean, it's gorgeous and all, but you don't strike me as the type to buy this kinda crap." I blurted.

Damn.

She laughed again. "Well, once I got onto my feet- as the saying goes- I wanted to prove to everyone that not only could I handle two kids on my own, but I could do it with **style!**"

I grinned. She's swell.

"You know," I poked, "you never told me what's goin' on with you and Ghost Dad."

"Ghost Dad." She muttered thoughtfully. "I like that."

"Doc…" I reminded.

She looked at me. "Alright, alright. Hold on a minute…" she trailed off.

She got up, went into the kitchen for a few minutes, and then returned with the whole fucking _case _of beers. That worried me… until I saw two boxes of Godiva chocolates tucked under one arm. Worry, who? Me?

"This may take awhile." She warned.

Putting the box on my lap, I pulled out a caramel stuffed chocolate with one hand, and opened a beer with another. "No worries." I consoled. I stretched out like a lazy housecat. "Where am I going anyway?" I purred.

She sighed, but echoed my movements. "Okay… well, not to use a cliché, but it all started when I was back home in Silent Hill for a weekend…"

**2:00am**

About twelve beers later, the good doctor finished her story.

"And that's that." She concluded. Seemingly to punctuate her sentence, she belched.

I giggled. "Well, that's one hell of a story."

She looked at me. "You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

I shrugged. "Maybe I'm just too drunk." I muttered. Beer always went right through me.

Doc Carver staggered to her feet. "Well, I bet it's not a good sign that Garrett's talking to you. I bet you're in for one hell of an… _adventure._" She laughed almost hysterically at that, as though 'adventure' meant something else entirely. But alas, I was too booze-befuddled to really know what the hell she may have meant by that.

She staggered up the stairs. "Coming?" she slurred.

"Yeah." I groaned.

Then I fainted, facedown, onto her couch.

Beer always went right through me.

**:A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, another filler. Bad author! No cookie! I'm trying to build up to the good stuff. I'm having SERIOUS writer's block. Arg. R&R kiddies!**

**LET THE POLLS OPEN! Who would you prefer as the primary heroine of a 'Garrett' sequel? Sweet, innocent Leah? Or Anna- the bitchy twin? You don't have to tell me immediately, the twins are in future chapters of this story.**

**:NEXT TIME: Lucy's first vision. Awwwww.**


	6. Bon Appetit

**Chapter 6: Bon Appetit**

_With all the wacky shit that had been going on lately, the last thing that I expected to see was a shopping mall._

_The place was mightily fucked up, though._

_I stared at the scenery. The lighting appeared to be out, but somehow a muted glow flooded the area; making everything more creepy._

_A noise that sounded like whirring sprang to life behind me. I turned to discover that a pair of previously silent escalators had started up once again._

_And that was it. **Literally.**_

_I peered over the edge, and looked into the empty abyss beyond._

_"Damn." I gaped at the hole in the middle of the ground._

_That's when I noticed something bounding up the escalator steps. I watched a shape bounce almost merrily up the stairs like it didn't have a care in the world. _

_It was a Doberman._

_I smiled. I like Dobermans. I always thought that they were sweeter than a lot of people gave them credit for. I reached towards it. "Hey gorgeous-" I began._

_A hand snatched back my wrist. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Warned a male voice._

_I met Garrett's dark eyes. "What's going on?" I asked._

_"Leave it be." Garrett said quietly. He glanced at the dog, and I caught some unreadable emotion in his eyes. Pity?_

_I eyed him warily. "What the hell's going on?" I repeated._

_The dog sniffed the ground, shook itself, and trotted to the second set of escalators. This set led upstairs._

_The dog sniffed the ground again. At the base of the escalator, the dog grinned a doggy grin, and happily walked up the unmoving steps._

_Garrett clasped my hands. "I always hate these things. They never get easier, even when it's just a dog." He said sadly._

_"What?" I asked. I was getting nervous. "What never gets easier?"_

_"We'll never be able to talk until this gets done. Trust me. Thank God it's usually quick."_

_"What's usually quick?"_

_He led me up the escalator steps; not saying a word._

_This floor was as creepy as the one before. Except that there was a restaurant to one side that was well lit._

_Still not speaking, he started to lead me through the door._

_I froze to my spot. "Hey, wait a second-"_

_He smiled, but not like he was happy. "It's okay. You get used to it." With that rather ominous forecast, he pulled me through the door._

_The inside of the restaurant was nice- in a hollowed-out-shell kinda way. Again, the lighting was good; as though Garrett and I were being led in this direction._

_And I was beginning to think that I didn't want to know why._

_I took a few steps forward, and then flinched when a bit of light hit me right in the eyes._

_I looked for the source- and gaped when I found it._

_It was coming from a pile of diced steak sitting on the table. Why the hell would cooked meat sparkle? I stared at it._

_Slowly, but surely, I figured out the problem. There was a key sitting on top of the steaming mound. I examined it further. _

_Someone had written on it._

_**'Café Turn Mill'** it said._

_I looked at Garrett. "Why would a key be nestled in a pile of meat?"_

_He just looked at me._

_"C'mon! Say **something!**"_

_"That's for the dog." He said solemnly. "It's a sacrifice."_

_I gaped at him. "**What?**"_

_"You heard me."_

_Being a dog-person at heart, I didn't really get what was going on. "**What?**" I repeated. I blinked. "What purpose would killing a dog serve?" I whispered. I was mortified._

_"Remember when I told you about that cult, 'The Order'?"_

_I nodded, but I was confused._

_"Remember how I told you about the girl they sacrificed? How she renounced their ways? How her father escaped with a baby?_

_"What the **fuck** does that have to do with-"_

_"Do you?" he asked. Garrett sounded almost urgent. He tightly gripped my shoulders._

_Behind me, the door edged open. In trotted the dog._

_I ran to it. "No! No! Get out!" I screamed._

_The dog trotted forward, passing right through me._

_I felt almost ill._

_Behind me: "Did I mention that we have no effect on the Other World?"_

_He changed topics again, clearly baiting me. I wasn't in the mood, but I started to rise to the occasion anyway. "What 'Other World'?"_

_The dog sniffed the area around the base of the table. I tried very hard not to notice._

_"The ambience in this place-" he waved his hands around the room, and motioned to the creepiness outside. "Is here because this isn't what you'd call the 'real' world."_

_"Then what the hell would you call it?"_

_"The…I guess you'd call…** fabric of reality**… can be bent. In fact, this is the…" he paused. A thoughtful look was in his eyes. "Well, I think it's the third time that this has happened on this grand a scale. At least, for only one person."_

_The dog raised up on it's hind legs; spotting it's quarry. I winced._

_"Keep talking." I said. I was pretty sure that it sounded almost like a plea._

_"Anyways, it's always centered around two possible factors. One; the Order. Or two, Silent Hill. This time, however, it's about both."_

_"What's going on?" I glanced at the dog, who was trying to find a way onto the table now. "Why this?"_

_"The reason this is happening is because they're after the girl again. All those years ago, when the man escaped with the baby, he escaped with the girl- and the complete beast nestled inside of her."_

_"No fucking way."_

_"Yes fucking way. And since the creature is whole once more, it can help them. It's creating a new version of the 'Other World'. It, and the cult members, hope to fill the girl with horror, revulsion, and hatred. That thing in her womb feeds off of those things." A bitter look filled his face. "And you know how these things work, whatever the mother eats goes straight into the baby."_

_I shuddered. As a girl, I had an instinctive repulsion at the idea of having some monster growing inside my belly._

_The dog finally found it's way onto the table. It sniffed the meat for a few seconds, and then it grinned it's doggy grin again. It inhaled the meat- key included- in less than a minute._

_I looked at it. "Well, that didn't seem so horrible to me."_

_Garrett didn't look at the dog. "Give it a minute."_

_The dog started to get off the table… and it froze._

_"Hey, what's the matter?" I crooned._

_It started to whimper loudly._

_Garrett jerked me away from it. He held me to him, and turned me so my back was to the dog. "Don't look!" He cried._

_I started to smell something. It was like a combination of sulfur, charcoal, and meat. "What the fuck are you doing? Lemme go!" I protested._

_Behind me, the dog's whimpers became howls of agony. I was suddenly grateful to be holding onto Garrett. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on, and I couldn't bear to watch something like this happen._

_The stench grew stronger, and I learned in that moment that dogs can scream._

_I buried my face in his shoulder, and began to cry._

_Smoke started to creep around us, and still I wept. It was horrible. God, please, let that poor creature **die**._

_As though someone had been listening, the screams stopped._

_I looked up at Garrett. His eyes were squeezed shut, and there were tear stains on his cheeks. _

_He opened his eyes, and looked in the direction of the dog. He flinched, but said. "It's over. You might not want to look though."_

_But, I did. The acrid stench wafting around me, I turned._

_At first, all I could see was the dog- or rather, what was left of the dog._

_It was a charred corpse. I stared; transfixed. Most of it's body had been reduced to a smoking, black and red mass. Apparently, someone had a sick sense of humor, because the poor thing had died on top of a large, dinner plate- as though it was now on display._

_That's when I noticed that it's torso had burst open, and it's internal organs had spilled out; completely liquefied._

_Something sparkled in that gore-soaked mess._

_**'Café Turn Mill'.**_

_I'm not gonna puke. I'm not gonna puke. I'm gonna puke._

_I leaned over to one side, and threw up until my head began to throb._

_Garrett put a hand on back, but not for comfort._

_"Uhh, Luce." He squeaked. _

_"What?" I groaned._

_"Is she with you?"_

_"Is who with me?"_

_Standing up, I looked to the table. _

_There, standing over it, was a woman who was very much dead._

_There were countless slashes over her face, and her eyes had been reduced to nothing but fluid that ran down her face. Her lips had been sliced off on her left side, exposing only a few remaining molars and a tongue that lolled out-_

_-like a dog's-_

_Like a demon's. I tried to look lower, but I couldn't… I just **couldn't.**_

_The dead woman held up a large fork, and a carving knife._

_"Bon appetite!" she cried._

**:AUTHOR'S NOTES: Was that to everyone's liking? R&R kids- I need it.**

**:SPECIAL THANKS: To Literary Alchemist. He pretty much co-authored this chapter. I had such a hard time with it! Plus, it was his idea as to how poor Crispy the Wonder-dog died. **


	7. Literary Alchemy

**Chapter 7: Literary Alchemy**

_It continued to grin maniacally at me._

_My stomach continued to lurch._

_Garrett hovered over my shoulders; a death grip on my arms. "Do something!" he hissed._

_"What do you mean, **do something!** This is **your** little mind-fuck, pal! **You** do something!" I snarled back._

_He gritted his teeth, but remained silent._

_The creature raised the carving knife, and took a step forward._

_"Aaaahh!" screamed Garrett._

_"Aaaahh!" I echoed. "Run away!"_

_I snatched at his wrist, and we got the hell out of there. In fact, I'd say that me and Gare did the hundred yard dash in about four-three. I didn't even stop to see which way we were going. Escalators and stores passed by in a blur._

_I only stopped the moment I began to feel faint. Garrett and I had ended up outside a bookstore. **My Bestsellers,** it declared._

_Panting, I looked at the sign, and began to giggle. Vain, much?_

_As out of breath as I was, Garrett managed to give me a dirty look. "What's so damned funny?" he grumbled._

_Still snickering, I replied. "Nothing." Something occurred to me. "Hey, why are **you** tired? I thought you were dead."_

_He smirked. "You know, I don't really know. I still haven't figured out all of the rules. I know that I 'exist' in this world. But, I know I'm dead too." He looked at me._

_I just blinked. "Uh, okay."_

_"So…what was that shit about?"_

_"What shit?"_

_"That shit with the freaky no-faced lady, what was that?"_

_"How the fuck should I know?"_

_Silence._

_"Let's go in the store." I said suddenly._

_"What? Why?"_

_"Why not?"_

_Another dumbfounded look. He sighed. Shrugging, he replied, "Fuck it. Okie dokie- let's go."_

_We walked through the door._

_"Wow." Said Mr. State-The-Obvious._

_"Charming." I muttered wryly._

_My first thought was, **What the fuck happened here?** _

_My second thought was, **Riiight, like you don't already know?**_

_Seemingly keeping with the theme; the place was trashed. There were books strewn all over the floor. Most of the shelves were filled with half-mangled hardcovers._

_I surveyed the damage; sadder than I'd let Garrett see. I loved books, and **this-** this was a fucking sacrilege. What a waste._

_At my feet lay a mangled Shakespeare; **Twelfth Night.** Dammit, that one was my favorite too._

_I decided to ignore it, and I walked around. _

_Garrett was hot on my heels. "Great." He grumbled. "Okay, you saw the mess, let's go away now. **Please.**" He urged._

_I gave him a look. "Why? You got a hot date?" I teased._

_"No, but if we don't get the hell out of dodge, and some weird shit happens, I will **not** be held responsible for anything that decides to chew on you because you decided to stick around."_

_"Wow." I laughed._

_Now he was clearly irritated. "What?"_

_"You **ramble** when you're tense!" I said; grinning. I turned towards the shelves again._

_**How to Serve Humans.** Hey, that sounded familiar…_

_**The Book of the Order. **Hmmm, cultists who do wholesale?_

_**The Most Infamous Serial Killers of the Twentieth Century. **I stared at the cover. The striking blond man on the cover caught my eye. I remembered that he had killed a bunch of people and ripped out their hearts. It's always the cute ones._

_"Can we **please** go now?" A voice screeched behind me. _

_The defense rests._

_With a roll of my eyes, I turned back to Garrett. "No." _

_He looked like he might have started to whine, but he kept quiet. I continued to wander around._

_There was a keypad at the back of the room, and a little note taped to the wall beside it._

_"What the hell…" I muttered._

_"Fuck. What now?" groaned Garrett._

_I didn't reply, I simply read the note on the wall aloud:_

"_**Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Put these books in order."**_

_"What the hell are you babbling about now?"_

_"It's Shakespeare, you numbnuts." I scolded. "God, don't you read?"_

_"Before I died, I was a florist. What the hell would I need Shakespeare for?"_

_I snickered. "A florist?" That was unexpected._

_He looked pissed, which surprisingly, made him quite hot to me. His eyes were almost black with anger. "What the hell makes you think-"_

_The door opened behind us._

_Expecting the freak with half a face, I ducked behind the counter._

_Garrett dove over the same counter; slamming into me._

_"Ow!" I yelped. "You mother-"_

_He clamped a hand over my mouth. "Shhh!" he hissed._

_It took me a minute, but I realized his hand was warm. Should dead people be warm?_

_"Hello?" Called a female voice. "Is anyone here?"_

_A pause for a moment, then: "God, who would do such a thing?"_

_Whoever she was, she seemed to have taken the odd carnage about as well as we had. I stood up._

_Garrett pulled at me, but I smacked his hand away._

_The woman peering around the room wasn't a woman at all. She looked younger than me! _

_Garrett sighed for the billionth time, and stood up. He took a look at the girl, and gasped._

_I looked at him. "What? You two know each other?" I asked._

_"It's her.** Her.** The girl I've been telling you about!" _

_"The chick with the demonic fetus?" _

_"Yep."_

_"No shit?"_

_"No shit."_

_Wow. I walked up to her. "Hey! Nice to meet ya!" Dare I say, I oozed sweetness._

_She passed right through me. _

_"Dammit."_

_Garrett grinned at me. _

_"You like when I make a schmuck outta myself- don't cha?" I glared at him._

_He nodded happily. "Yep."_

_I punched him on the arm._

_The girl walked through us, and up to the keypad. She read aloud the note._

_I snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that."_

_A thoughtful expression on her face, she turned around, and walked over to a pile of Shakespeare books scattered in front of one shelf._

_She picked the books up, and one by one, she replaced them on the shelf. Grinning, she mused; "Well, whaddaya know?" She took a small notepad out of one pocket, a pen out of another, and copied down whatever she was looking at._

_Garrett and I watched her silently. _

_She strolled back over to the keypad; passing through us. She looked at whatever had been written down, and started to punch in numbers._

_After a few unsuccessful tries- I suddenly heard a distinct beep that indicated that she was free to go. Laughing in triumph, she passed through the door._

_With the door still open, I tried to follow her, but only succeeded in slamming my face against some unseen force._

_"Fuck!" I yelped._

_Snickering, Garrett said, "You know, that's still funny!"_

_Ignoring him, I muttered, "How'd she get that fucking door open anyway?"_

_Garrett strolled over to where the girl had replaced those books. "You said that quote was Shakespeare, right?"_

_"Yeah."_

_Staring at the shelf, Garrett replied, "Well, these books are Shakespeare, and someone handwrote numbers on the spines."_

_"Huh? I'll be damned. Clever girl."_

_I sat on the counter. Garrett quickly joined me._

_"Okay, Mr. Expert Guy- what now?"_

_"We chill." Hand to God, the guy had a **serious** expression on his face._

_"There's a woman out there with half a face, a teenage girl getting herself into God-only-knows what kinda trouble- and you want us to chill!" I shrilled._

_"Well, it's not like we can do anything. We're on a different plane that they are. We can't really do shit except sit back and 'enjoy' the show."_

_"Goddammit!" I yelled in frustration._

_"Indeed." Concurred Garrett._

_Another pause._

_"Hey Luce?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_He gently touched my arms. "How'd you get these scars?"_

_Panicked, I looked down- and cursed softly. The shoulders of my hoodie had slipped off, revealing the sleeveless pajama top I had on underneath._

_"Nevermind that." I muttered absently; zipping it back into place._

_"They look almost like knife wounds-" he started to say softly._

_"Leave it the fuck alone!" I snapped. I started to shake._

_Garrett fell quiet; staring at me as though he was seeing me for the first time. Remaining silent; he put an arm around me. I leaned into him. And, for a few minutes, we just sat there like that._

_"That thing… you recognized it, didn't you?_

_I nodded into his shoulder. "Yeah. In fact, it was-"_

"Ms. Gomez?" called a young voice.

Wait a minute…

"Ms. Gomez… Lucy?" urged the voice uncertainly.

I opened my eyes, and winced. The light was so damned **bright.**

Leah sat a couple feet away from me; a worried expression on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

I felt a dull throb begin right behind my eyes. "Aside from what I'm sure is gonna grow into the hangover from hell, I'm peachy." I rasped; groggy.

"It's eight o'clock. I thought you might want to get up before we all leave for the day." Apparently intuiting my problem; she offered me some aspirin, and a glass of apple juice.

I gave her a look, but I took what she offered.

She blushed faintly. "Well, Anna never wants to eat when she's hung over." My stomach lurched at the thought of food. "And I didn't think you'd appreciate orange juice right now." She still stared at me.

"What?"

"You wept in your sleep."

I snickered. "No, I didn't."

She traced a finger down my face, and when she pulled away, it was wet.

"I'll be damned." I muttered.

"Are you? Alright, I mean?" she prodded.

"Yeah, I'm cool."

A voice behind me responded demurely, "Good, 'cause I'd hate for someone to drop dead on me in my own house."

I rolled my head back to find Delia staring at me; smiling.

"Good morning." She chirped.

Suddenly, a brown blur whizzed by her; stopping only long enough to kiss her on the cheek. "Bye mom!" screeched Anna.

Leah gave a startled squeak, grabbed her bags, and ran after her sister.

I heard the door close, and within moments, they were gone. I didn't even hear their car.

"Ah, parenthood." Mused Delia. She stared at the door for a minute, then she came over, and sat next to me.

"So, how'd the visit with Garrett go?" she asked bluntly.

It took a minute for what she said to register. "Huh?"

"What did you guys talk about?"

I stared at her with what I'm sure was a blank expression.

"Oh, come on! Sweetie, I hate to burst your bubble, but when you're drunk, you talk in your sleep. Why do you think Leah was so concerned? You said the name 'Garrett' more than a few times."

Well, **shit.** "And?"

"And, where'd those scars come from?"

"**Fuck!**" I yelled. I wrapped a quilt around my shoulders.

"I take it that you're not up to sharing?"

"No." I grumped. Even to me, that sounded churlish.

Something occurred to me. "Why the hell am I the one being tapped, anyways?"

She looked thoughtfully at me. "Maybe it's because of those scars."

For the **millionth** time, "Huh?"

"Have you ever been involved in anything… bad?" she asked me gently.

I squirmed, but decided to be open about it. "Yeah."

"Violent."

"Yeah…my aunt." I whispered.

"What about her?"

"My parents died when I was seven, and I moved in with my aunt. She... abused me… a lot."

Delia started to stroke my hair- the way you might comfort a child. "What happened?"

Almost soundlessly, I gasped. "I killed her."

**:AUTHOR'S NOTES: As usual, I probably could've done better. This chapter felt a little half-assed. But I'm kinda proud of it too. R&R PEOPLE, I CRAVE REVIEWS!**

**:SPECIAL THANKS: To Literary Alchemist. I figured since he's helped me so much with this lately, he earned the right to have a chapter named after him; at the very least! **


	8. Brick Colored Fluid

**Chapter 8: Brick Colored Fluid**

"I'm sure it was justifiable." She said calmly.

I almost didn't believe what I was hearing. "You're not going to…like… throw me out, or anything? I mean, I'd understand if you did-"

"Hush!" scolded Delia. "If you're being targeted by…that _place_… then I doubt you're all that bad."

"How can you have that much faith in me?"

She smiled benevolently at me. "I did my research. Many, _many_ people were lost to that place. Even after the entire town's citizens disappeared, more people went in. Many were never heard from again, but some escaped. A few tried to tell people what happened, but nobody believed them. After awhile, Silent Hill became an urban legend. No one believes that it exists anymore." She grew angry. "But some **_morons_** decide on occasion to try to go into it. They're usually the ones who're never seen again." She laughed suddenly, and bitterly. "Who'd have thought that my dopey little hayseed hometown would become such a… **_nightmare._**"  
I stared at her, transfixed by her story.

"To this day, a lot of people still don't believe me when I tell them that I was born in Silent Hill. I mean, when everybody died, everything that was in the town went with them. The records are probably all still there. The data files, the bank accounts…" she trailed off, a thoughtful look on her face. "A surprising number of people went there just after the mass disappearance. These people were looters, or thrill seekers. I remember reading in the newspaper that they were finding this guy's body for a month."

"Ew." Was all I could say.

She stood up, and motioned for me to follow. "Come on. I have quite the story to tell. I'll make us some breakfast."

I was certain I was at least a little green. "You really think I'll be able to eat- if that's how you're opening a story?"

She laughed at me! "Sweetie, trust me- you will!"

I grumbled incoherently, but followed her into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Delia surprised me. She just poured two glasses of milk, and stuck a bunch of Pop Tarts in the toaster.

I gave her a look.

"What, you thought I meant some big breakfast with all the trimmings?" she asked me innocently. "Please! I can eat when I'm talking about Silent Hill- but not that much!"

I snickered. What a gal!

"So," began Delia, "after the shit hit the fan, and me and the twins escaped, the first thing I worked on was settling into a routine. I mean, I had two little babies that needed me to take care of them; they depended solely on me to survive. Being only twenty, however, meant that this was going to be **_quite_** a bitch of a job for me! So, after we moved here, I got a shit job at…" she paused, obviously for dramatic effect.

I was never a patient kinda gal, so: "Where?"

"The King Oscar Motel."

I froze for minute, then laughed my ass off. "No shit?"

"No shit. The upside was that considering the situation, the owner let me live rent-free in one of the rooms. The downside? Med school and baby-stuff is so **_not_** cheap!"

"Bummer." Okay, I wasn't all that great at the sympathy-stuff. Sue me!

"So, two years had passed without much of a hitch. Life was a poverty stricken pain in my ass. Then, one characteristically boring day…"

**_I was passing through the halls with my housekeeping-cart-'O-doom, trying like hell to mind my own business. But, much to my chagrin, nobody wanted to keep their problems to themselves._**

_**As I passed each room, I could hear the conversations within.**_

_**The first: "Damn you! How could you-"**_

_**The second: "But Mommy- I WANT IT!"**_

_**I could only hear moans coming from the third. I secretly hoped that someone was being murdered inside.**_

_**God, I was SO bored. Little did I know that my prayers would be answered when I passed the next room.**_

_**I heard someone chanting inside. **_

"_**Silent Hill is a silent hell. You go in you don't go out. Silent Hill is a silent hell. Everybody dies in Silent Hell!" chirped the person within; using a sing-song voice.**_

_**I froze. No fucking way…**_

_**My past had just risen up, and it was about to bite me on the ass…**_

Delia paused, taking a delicate sip from a bottle of flavored water.

"Dammit!" I fumed. "Maybe you should get into the movie business- you're fucking **generous** with the dramatic pauses!"

She just laughed at me! "It gets better. Little did I know that these two bitches that I worked with would be right near the door- ready to harass me…"

_**Suddenly, a voice behind me sneered. "Sounds to me like one of Carver's people decided to come looking for her!"**_

_**With a roll of my eyes, I turned to find Janice Gurecki and Violet Young sniggering at me. Janice never believed that I was from Silent Hill, and since Violet was her loyal flunky- she was quick to mock me too. The cows.**_

_**Violet tittered like any good goon would. "Yeah, maybe they should return to the loony bin together. Birds of a psychotic feather should always flock together!" **_

_**This caused them both to crack up.**_

"_**Ladies." I growled. I used that term loosely. "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"**_

_**They gave me that weird, tittering, giggle again.**_

_**As much as I fantasized about drilling both of their heads open- if only to let the gas out- I kind of pitied them too. Though I couldn't figure out why.**_

_**Janice was thirty-four years old. She was MAYBE five-feet-two-inches tall. She was blond, and petite. However, she appeared to have some sort of skin problem. Her chin was badly pock-marked with acne, and her teeth were yellow from years of chain smoking. She also had immense, nearly black eyes. They weren't suited to her face and gave her the unfortunate appearance of an oddly-colored bumblebee. **_

_**And not the cute, greeting-card kind either.**_

**_Violet was gargantuan. I think she was the only woman I knew that was over six feet tall. Sadly, she must have weighed about three hundred pounds, and none of it was muscle. Her greasy red hair was tied into so tight a bun, that I noticed that the corner of her eyes had been uptilted slightly._**

_**Ow…**_

"_**Isn't that one of your pals in there?" mocked Janice.**_

"_**What makes you say that?" I purred. Anyone who had known me would have realized this was my 'prepare to die' tone. But, alas, Janice and Violet were totally brain-dead, so:**_

"_**Yeah," tittered Violet again. God, I wanted to smack her. "so, if she's one of your freaky friends- why don't you go in there and deal with her?"**_

_**I recognized what they were doing instantly. The lady in the room sounded totally, grade-A, batshit, and they wanted me to be freaked out, and say how scared I was.**_

_**Yeah, right. I had two little babies to be a role model to. And taking crap from people like these two chuckleheads was so NOT a value that I had wanted to instill in my girls.**_

_**Without so much as uttering a word, I pulled out my key-card, and entered the room. **_

_**And I didn't even turn back to see how those two heifers reacted.**_

_**I knocked gently before entering fully. "Housekeeping." I announced, as was the standard.**_

_**Then I walked into the room.**_

_**I remember taking one look, and thinking, (Oh! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! CRAP!)**_

_**The first thing I registered was the walls. There were… THINGS… written on the walls. In a brick colored substance that I knew all to well-**_

_**-**it was all over the walls. The little boy's room, the bunk beds, the knife that had skewered the newspaper article to the inside of the family room's closet-_

_**I was stunned- to say the least. I read the things on the walls:**_

**Samael.**

**The Holy Mother returned!**

**DahliadahliaDAHLIAistheevilone!**

**Harry the Hero saved the day.**

**Harry is the Father is Harry is**

_**Then I noticed a drawing. It was a circle, and it had runes in it. In it's center was three more circles, each flanked with more runes. I recognized it instantly.**_

_**It had been tattooed into my stomach when I had come to outside the borders of Silent Hill. I even remembered doing research on it. Hell, a girl should know about what gets inked into her body.**_

_**It was the seal of Metatron.**_

I cut her off. "Somebody tattooed a cult-thing into you?" I yelled.

She lifted up her shirt, and flashed me her stomach. Yep, somebody did indeed.

She gave me a look, "Can I finish my story now?"

"Yes, your highness." I rolled my eyes.

_**I was so entranced by the contents of the walls, that I had completely forgotten that someone was in the room with me, until I heard some pretty deranged laughter.**_

"_**Gah!" I yelped.**_

_**Behind me sat an almost freakish-looking middle-aged woman. I realized that my entrance must have spooked her into this… stupor.**_

_**She just sat there, staring blankly into space. Her posture was extraordinarily rigid, and I flashed on women in history books, who only sat like that because of corset-induced discomfort. It looked almost painful.**_

"_**Ma'am?" I asked. "Are you alright?"**_

_**No answer.**_

_**She had short, graying blond hair. **_

Delia chuckled softly.

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"I remember for some reason, I was jealous."

"Of _what?"_

"Oh, you know! How blonds get to go that lovely shade of silver gray, while the rest of us go butt-tray gray."

I laughed.

"Anyways…"

_**It was greasy, and looked as though it hadn't been combed in a while. Her skin was pale, too. It gave me the worrisome idea that maybe she hadn't been outside in some time.**_

_**I shook off the strange ideas that flooded my mind, and continued to examine the woman. Her clothes were filthy, and she was covered in the brick-colored fluid…**_

_**That had been concentrated on her hands…**_

_**I ignored the tiny voice in my head that was screaming, **"RUN AWAY!"**, and went into the bathroom. Wetting a rag, I returned to the bedroom.**_

_**I knelt in front of the woman, and began to gingerly wash her face. I took it as a good sign when she didn't attack me or anything.**_

"_**Hey." I said. "My name's Delia Carver. What's yours?**_

_**No answer.**_

_**Continuing to gently scrub the goop off of her face, I began to babble. "So, I heard you talking earlier. You're from Silent Hill?"**_

_**That earned me an eye flick. I went with it.**_

"_**I'm from Silent Hill too. So are my two daughters." I decided to check her reaction again.**_

_**Now, she was staring at me.**_

_**Slowly, I took her hands, and began to wipe them off too. **_

"_**So, who are you?" I asked again.**_

_**She stood up suddenly. She walked to the window, and peered out.**_

_**That's when I noticed her bag…**_

_**It was an old fashioned carpet-bag, made of thick, dark material. I stared at it for a few minutes, and then glanced at her.**_

_**The woman was still staring out the window.**_

_(I can't get in trouble for this. She's obviously nuts! I'm just trying to put a name to the face!)_

_**I opened the bag, looked inside- and had to bite back a shriek.**_

_**There were- BITS- inside the bag. I stared at the contents in horror, but strangely, my med school curiosity overtook me. And thank God for that. It gave me the ability to look at the mess with an almost clinical detachment.**_

**_It was just a massive… _**blob**_ of gore. However, it appeared to be only animal remains. Small leg stumps; with paws still attached. A long, black tail. A scattering of black and white feathers, a lot of bones, and _**yes**_- that gray lump was an intact pidgeon head!_**

_**I noticed something that looked like a wallet poking up out of the gunk. Which is when my horror and nausea returned- full force.**_

_(Oh, are you kidding me?)_

_**Still keeping an eye on the woman, I bit back my nausea, and shoved my hand in. **_

_(EwewewewEW- Got it!)_

_**I grinned in triumph, and examined my prize.**_

_**It wasn't a wallet at all. It was a police badge, and it came with ID!**_

_**Inside was a picture of a younger, obviously more stable version of the woman. I read the name aloud.**_

"_**Officer Cybil Bennet. Brahms PD."**_

**: AUTHOR'S NOTES : Phew! Finally done! I had hoped for something better, but alas, there was a time constraint. Plus, someone I know more or less challenged me to top the SH2 "Hand in the toilet" scene. Ta-da!**

**READ AND REVIEW! Pleeeeease? **


	9. Inner Demons

**Chapter 9: Inner Demons**

"Holy shit!" I yelped. It seemed to be my new catchphrase, but day-amn, what a fucking tangled-ass web I'd fallen into. "A cop? How the hell does a woman go from being a cop to being psycho in a cheap motel room hundreds of miles from her PD with a bag of road kill?"

Delia crossed her arms, a thoughtful look on her face. "Well, I always figured that she had the worst case of post traumatic stress disorder known to man. She kind of acted like the Vietnam veterans that I had to study in my abnormal psychology class about a million and a half years ago." She frowned. "Jesus. When did I get old?"

I snorted. "Yeah, right. What are you, thirty-five?"

She preened. "I love you." She professed happily. I laughed, but was secretly envious, wondering how old she was. Gravity was, apparently, her friend.

Then she harpooned me with her gaze. "So, _do_ you know Silent Hill?"

I squirmed, but didn't answer.

"Oh, yeah. You do. I know that expression. I've seen it in the mirror more than once." She confirmed. "And it isn't just because of Garrett, is it Lucy?" she wasn't asking. She was stating a fact.

I blurted. "I had an aunt up there…" Dammit. I sighed and bumbled my way on. "She wasn't well. Her father was a member of this religious group. When my parents died, fucking social services dumped me on her doorstep, anyway." I absolutely did _not_ make eye contact.

"'Religious order.'" She echoed. "Hmm. That explains your arms."

I remained silent this time. I got so many points that I can't even count that high.

Suddenly, Delia surprised me by changing the subject. "How long ya here for, anyway?" 

"Well, only a couple more days. I have to be back at work on Monday." 

She goggled at me. "Seriously? You only got a week off? After one of your coworkers was _murdered?_"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Like I said, my boss is fobbing Jose's death on Jose himself. Supposedly, he got 'drunk', and 'fell in.'"

Delia's jaw dropped this time. "What a fucking prick!"  
Again, I shrugged. Maybe I was still in shock, maybe not, but Kaufman's reluctance to stop working us ragged hadn't really affected me… yet. "Honey, you're _so_ preachin' to the choir." I chuckled quietly. "I guess I'm used to Kaufman being a complete dick."

"_Kaufman?_" she gaped at me. "_Kaufman?_" She seemed almost in shock herself.

"Yeah, Alan Kaufman. My douche bag of a boss."

"_Kaufman?_" She repeated. Again.

"Jesus, did I stutter? _Y-e-s._ Why are you saying that?"

"A "gentleman" named Kaufman was partly responsible for the shit in Silent Hill." She explained.

"No shit? That's weird." Well, it was.

"Yeah, and Anna's best friend is a boy named _Aaron_ Kaufman." Delia added.

"Fuck, that is weird."

"Yep. Anyways, I haven't finished my story yet, have I?"

"Oh, right. That'd be a "no."

She smiled. "Right. So, where was I?"

"The revelation that the crazy person in the skanky hotel room was a cop."

"Ah. Yeah, so…"

_I stared at the police badge with a sort of morbid fascination. The woman in the picture was a neat, tidy, very clean cut person. Not a single hair was out of place. The image was totally at odds with the unhinged woman before me with the bag of road kill and the distinct, unwashed smell._

_I turned to her with the police badge still clutched in my hand. I knew talking to this woman would be a delicate undertaking. Dealing with the mentally unstable was always a questionable and delicate thing. I knew I should probably just get the hell out of there, but she needed help. I was a mere maid, and I was in school to be a toxicologist. I had _zero _professional training, I should have left, but I couldn't. It didn't take a PhD to grasp that Silent Hill had infected this woman's life like a disease. I understood her pain. I was there when the Darkness began to seep in. It was obvious that it had destroyed her._

_With a sigh, I sat down beside her on the bed. My boss would probably start wondering where the hell I disappeared to, but he was also a pretty cool guy. If I could get a crazy person quietly out of the building, we'd be square._

_As gently as possible, I asked. "Cybil?"_

_She looked at me._

_I jumped on that. "Cybil Bennett?"_

_This actually got her to turn and look at me. I took this as a very good sign, and very, very slowly, I placed my hand on her shoulder. When she didn't so much as blink, I decided to soldier on. I couldn't just abandon a fellow victim of Silent Hill. I had no idea that there were any other survivors besides me and the twins._

"The twins and I." I interrupted. I tsked playfully. "Naughty grammar."

She glared at me, but I batted my eyelashes coquettishly at her, and she laughed. She gave me a cheery reprimand. "I'm a doctor, not a linguist. Miserable bitch."

I chuckled quietly as Delia continued. "As I was saying…"

_I was both mortified and relieved to find someone who had been fucked with by that town too. Relived, because Cybil and her weirdness proved that I wasn't totally fucknuts. Mortified, because, well, Cybil _was_ totally fucknuts. But all the gore graffiti was spot-on. Crazy or not, she knew her shit. I started to rub my hand in small circles on her back. My mother used to do it to comfort me when I was a child, and I'd picked up the habit. "Cybil, sweetie, is there a reason that you came to this place?"_

_She didn't respond to me._

_"Cybil, I noticed that you wrote some interesting notes on the wall there. Did you come here to talk to someone about them?" I paused, and then asked, "Did you want to talk about Silent Hill?"_

_Cybil remained silent. She just kept staring at me._

_I chewed my lower lip, deep in thought. Something occurred to me. Standing up, I turned to Cybil and her empty doll eyes._

_"I'm going to look around, okay? If I touch something and it upsets you, feel free to tell me, okay?"_

_The staring contest continued._

_I sighed, and looked at that disgusting carpet bag again. I had to start there. I grabbed a damp rag and scrubbed off the initial coating gunk from my hands. I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, and with a shudder, I picked up the bag. In plain sight of Cybil, I grabbed an empty trash bag and walked into the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open. "Cybil," I called, "I'm just going to look in your bag to see if I can help you, okay? I'm doing it in the bathroom because it's going to be messy." Oh, who was I kidding? The room was just as disgusting as the bag; I doubt that emptying it out in there would've made much of a difference. At least with some distance between us, I had a moment to be ready for anything if need be._

Delia stopped, went to the fridge, and brought over beer.

"Argh!" I howled. "Stop with the pauses, already, and get to the point!" Then I paused, and looked at the clock. A couple of hours went by. "Wait, beer… for lunch?"

She smirked at me, and went to the fridge. She pulled out sliced turkey, cheese, bread, mayo, and mustard. "Mayonnaise, or mustard?"

My stomach rumbled. "Mustard."

She got to work, and in a flash, two sandwiches materialized on the table. I took a bite, and luxuriated in the fact that her groceries were upscale, too. "Yum." I purred.

She grinned at me, and handed me a beer. I watched the green glass reflect the midday sunlight.

"So," said Delia. "Where've you gotta be today, anyways?"  
"No where."

"Me neither. So, what's the problem?"

I shrugged, and took a swig. De-lish. "Nothing, I guess. Continue your story!" I bellowed.

She chuckled. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all you ever _are_."

"Cow."

"Yup."

_As I scooped unidentifiable globs of gore into the trash bag, I started to find some strange, buried treasure. Squashed onto a fluffy tail was an ornate, antique silver ring. Against the side of the bag was a fucking M & M sized black jewel, (Couldn't be a diamond… could it? …Nah!) on a silver, (Platinum? …No!) chain._

_Outside, I heard Cybil moaning, "Harry… please… make it stop. Make it stop. Get it out of me…" She sounded as though she were in pain._

_I rushed out to Cybil. "Are you okay?" I wrapped an arm around her. "You sounded like you were hurting."_

_She stared numbly at me. I may have been wrong, but there __**was **__a tightness to her. I held her to me for awhile, crooning quiet nonsense to her, and rubbing her back again. We stayed like that for another few minutes until I felt her relax once more. I got up, and went back to work, only I left the door open all the way this time._

_Next, I found an article from an old newspaper. Luckily, it had been inserted into a plastic album page, so all I had to do was wipe the goop off. The first thing I noticed was the picture of a man who was blandly attractive in an odd, next door neighbor sort of way. I recognized the image immediately. It was Harry Mason, renowned horror novelist. He wrote a wildly popular series called __Inner Demons__, which was now in six languages, and I pretty much worshipped it. It centers on a demon-infested town, and each book has a different hero or heroine, and they each end up at the town in some sort of bizarre way. They each have to escape by facing something dark from their past…_

"Ooh." Said Delia.

"Hmm?" I asked. I liked the series, too. My favorite was about a guy named James who was compelled to the town because of a letter written by his dead wife. The demons he had been tortured with scared the crap out of me; especially the one that sexually assaulted another demon while James cowered in a closet. Harry Mason was just brilliant. The guy had the career longevity of Stephen King.

Then I thought about the series a little more…

"Ooh." I agreed. "Him too?"

Delia nodded. "Probably."

_The article said that Mason had won a prestigious award from the Writer's Guild of America, but never appeared to claim it. It also postulated that it was because he preferred to live in relative seclusion with his young daughter._

_"Harry… Harry… It hurts. Why won't it stop hurting me? Oh, Harry… The things it wants…make it stop…" she mewled._

_I started to go to her again, but decided against it. She was physically fine._

_Outside, I heard her sob, and then wail wordlessly._

_I ignored her this time, and quickly regretted it. Her wails escalated into a single, blood-curdling scream, and then silence. Heart in my throat, I ran out into the room. I took one look at Cybil lying still on the bed, and had to fight against a wail of my own._

_The knife protruding from her chest was heavily detailed, and clearly ceremonial. Her fist was still clenched around it, and the blade stood out like a beacon. The pale green handle looked as though it had been likely carved out of jade. I noticed how starkly Cybil's blood stood out against the pale color. _

_It must have sprayed up onto the handle as she… I stared in shock at the sheer volume of blood. "She must have nicked an artery…" I heard myself mutter distantly. Judging by the huge width of the wounds, it looked as though she tried to dig her way through her chest, and out the other side. She had done enough damage for me to see quite a bit of her anatomy. I could see a couple of ribs sticking out, some exposed lung tissue. I couldn't imagine anyone being able to do so much damage in the space of a few minutes with another person only a few feet away, but one thing I've learned is that the mentally ill can defy all logic. _

_I fought another potentially hysterical scream as I forced myself to look up at her face. What I saw broke my heart. Cybil had died with a look of such tragic despair on her face. Two wet lines on her cheeks had cleaned some of the blood away._

_I collapsed onto the edge of the bed and wept; just as Officer Cybil Bennett had as she committed suicide._

**To Be Continued…**

**:Author's Notes: I'm sure I could have gone on, but I kinda felt as though I should finish that chapter there. READ AND REVIEW, please? Reviews are nice!**


	10. Ghost Story

**Chapter 10**

_Toluca Lake was perfect in the fall._

_The trees lining it were changing color. The reds and yellows and greens made the sky gleam like a good sapphire. Everything seemed to be at it's most vibrant. With the sunlight sparkling off the lake, the water seemed to be almost… dancing._

_This was why I chose to bring my wife here for our honeymoon._

_I had woken up especially early that morning, as Penny started to stir. I kissed her softly and told her to go back to sleep. With a contented sigh, she did. It was our honeymoon, after all. There was no reason to get up unless absolutely necessary. So, I left her a brief note, and went out to the dock to enjoy the sunrise._

_A young, male voice broke into my reverie. "Hey, dumbfuck." It said cheerily._

_(Huh?)_

_"Behind you, genius." The voice now oozed with sarcasm._

_I turned to find a man of about thirty or so smiling merrily at me. He was unusually pale, with dark hair and eyes. And being clod from head to toe in black made him seem like one of the undead._

_He nodded toward the lake. "Like it here, do ya?"_

_I smiled cautiously. "Yeah, I do."_

_He looked at me for a long moment, a somber look on his face. Then, he broke out into a grin. "On your honeymoon? I brought my wife here, too. We only lived on the other side of the lake, in Silent Hill, but this is our special place. What is it about this place that draws all the couples?" he mused wistfully._

_"Who the hell are you?" I wondered aloud._

_"A nomadic soul."he replied. Then, weirdly, he burst out laughing._

_At this point, I was both irritated and somewhat amused. "Is there a reason as to why you're bugging me?"_

_He smirked again. He acted like everything was amusing to him, but I thought I caught an undercurrent of some other emotion, something darker. Anger? No. I contemplated it for a moment, and realized what it was._

_Envy._

_Before I could call him on it, he was talking again. "Listen, big guy, don't go to work in the morning- 'kay?"_

_I stared blankly at him. "I'm on my honeymoon- why would I go to work?"_

_He gave me a look like I was just dropped from the special ed class. "Hey, moron, you know this is a dream, right?"_

_"Huh?"_

_He sighed dramatically. "I'll take that as a 'no.' Just __**don't**__ go to work in the morning. Shit, you want to see that grandkid get born, don't you?"_

_"Wait, what're you- who the __**hell**__ are you?"_

_He just grinned devilishly at me. "Well, Bob; my name's Garrett. Garrett Daniels."_

_&*&*&*&*&*&_

"Bob, honey, time to wake up."

"Mrmmm…."

I heard musical laughter. I opened my eyes to see Penny standing over me, smiling brightly.

"Thirty years of marriage, you'd think a gal would get used to the fact that her hubby's not a real morning person." She mused wryly.

Without warning, I jumped up and grabbed her. She yipped in surprise, and swatted me away.

"Thirty years of marriage, and you'd think you would've seen that one coming." I retorted playfully.

She laughed again. "What's got you so frisky this morning?"

Pulling her close, I purred. "I dreamt about our honeymoon again."

_(And that creepy guy showed up for the fifth time this week., and told me not to go to work today: __**again.**__)_

She popped me on the shoulder. "Knock it off, stud. You'll be late for work."

_(Hmm. Ironic?)_ I pondered.

I shook off the idea.

Changing tones, she asked me. "You hear from Lucy? I'm starting to worry."

The concern in her voice matched my own worries. Lucy Gomez was the only woman working at the plant. She was a sweet kid, and had been the one to find Jose when he…

I was extremely worried about her. The kid mooched dinner off of us at least twice a week. She was a silver tongued smart-ass, but also very sweet natured. Penny and I had come to see her as an unofficial second child. A couple of days ago, she'd taken off to Washington state. Why; nobody knew. But, she'd sworn to call when she'd figured out what she was going to do. So far, no call.

Seemingly on cue, the phone rang as I was walking out the door. Sure enough, a strident, female voice bellowed happily, "Hi, Bob!"

"Luce- holy old shit! Where in the hell have you been? You shoulda called sooner, kiddo." I scolded in my Annoyed Daddy Voice.

She wasn't impressed. "Sorry." She replied, giggling. "I got caught up in stuff."

"Yeah? What kind of stuff?"

"Uh, look, I can't talk…Hey, don't you have to go to work?" she asked nervously. I had a sneaking suspicion that that was the end of the conversation.

With a sigh, I grumbled. "Yeah, dammit."

She chuckled. "Look, I'm staying at a friend's house. Here's the number." She gave it to me. I scribbled it down on a notepad next to the phone. I had no clue where the area code was from.

"Call me when you're home again." She said.

I chuckled. "Okay."

"Love ya, dinosaur."

"You too, ya damned fetus."

&*&*&*&*&*&

_(Kaufman)_

"No sir… yes, sir… no, sir… of course. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, I hurled it across the room with a wordless scream of fury.

_(Damned bureaucratic bullshit!)_ I fumed internally.

After that fucking redneck _moron_ up and died, I found myself drowning in paperwork. My lawyer was so far up my ass that _his_ voice came out of _my_ mouth. It was degrading and repulsive.

And it was also all my own fault.

Unlike my late brother, Michael, I just _had_ to go and be independent. Why did I _have_ to be a doctor like everyone else in my family?

The fact that I was wrong only made me seethe.  
I had to prove that I wasn't liable for the kid's _(Joe? Jeff? What the fuck was his name, anyway?)_ death. Otherwise, the rodent's family was going to drain me dry.

Lucky for me, I was trained in the time honored art of lying, cheating, and stealing to achieve my goals. Conveniently, the kid "had" a blood alcohol level high enough to intoxicate a rhino.

Heh.

There was only one- or rather, two- large problems with the situation.

Security guard Bob, and the conspiracy theory guy with the glandular problem.

They needed to go.

Fortunately, I happened to collect medieval antiquities. My gaze turned to the spiked mace that had arrived today. I'd had to smuggle it in before ol' Bob came in, and now I eyed it in the corner, still in it's packaging…

&*&*&*&*&*&

_(Bob)_

Away from Penny, my mood grew bleak. As I ambled down the hallway to the "main office," my gaze caught my crappy plastic nametag. Perfect for my crappy plastic job. "Hi! My name is Bob!" it screamed.

_(Who needs this shit, anyway?)_ I thought miserably. Then I remembered that I was eight months away from my pension. _(Oh, yeah. Damn.)_

In a really pissy mood, I shoved Dave away. His shift was over, and I wanted the peace and quiet.

Within minutes, I was staring numbly at the monitors. I noticed ol' Genghis Kaufman staring at some package that had apparently arrived earlier. It was the biggest freaking box I'd ever seen. He stared at it with something like rapture on his face. That sealed the deal for me, the guy was a fruit loop.

With a sigh, my thoughts turned to Lucy, Jaime, and Jose.

The three of them had been saddled with the most disgusting job in this hellhole. Right in their "office" was a door that led straight to the main sewage treatment room. The place was so rank that the three of them often walked out with secondhand stink. Luckily for Jaime and Jose, they worked with the ever-prepared Lucy. She stuck to one feminine cliché: perfume. She carried a veritable boatload of it on her. Once when she dropped her purse, I saw three bottles of the stuff roll out. They may start out smelling like toilets, but by the end of the day, they left smelling like cookies.

Thank God for small favors.

They were a tight-knit little group. _(I imagine that comes with being stuck down there like cave dwellers, but hey…)_ When Jose had been, er, _killed_, it was a devastating blow to Lucy and Jaime. That fucking dickhead Kaufman didn't even let anyone take any time off to grieve except Lucy, and that was only because she had found the body. All of ten days to get over discovering your friend's eviscerated corpse. I bet that turd only did it to avoid legal fees. Damned penny pinching tightwad. I fervently hoped Jose's family drained Captain Craphead's wallet dry- pension be damned!

My eyes finally wandered back to the screen. Speak of the psycho, his office was empty now. Something else was off, too…

"Where the hell is that package?" I muttered.

&*&*&*&*&*&

_(Kaufman)_

Shoving the wrapping of my new toy into a nearby garbage can, I stalked down the hall. As I reached the hallway to the security office, I grinned gleefully. Opening the door, I fought from giggling. This was going to be fun! I stared at the back of Bob's hat-clad head, contemplating my next move.

…his scalp. That fucker was well into his golden years and had a thick head of arctic white hair. I had been on Rogaine since college. As I crept slowly towards him, he never even reacted. He was obviously unaware of my presence, which pissed me off more. I was paying for a second rate loser who probably wouldn't hear me behind him if I banged a damn drum in his ear.

Hmmm. There's a thought…

&*&*&*&*&*&

_(Bob)_

I stared in shock at the monitors. Somehow, Kaufman had slipped past me, undetected. How in the hell had that happened? And where was that bastard? I scanned every screen, but saw nothing. With a sigh, I settled back in my chair in defeat. Kaufman would turn up eventually. Why worry about-

"Hey, Bob." Said Garrett.

I jumped, startled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Define _here._"

"In my office, and in god-be-damned _reality._"

He smirked at me. "Look down, dummy."

I did, and instantly regretted it. I was staring at a corpse… a _headless corpse._ It seemed the person in the blue uniform got his skull bashed in. In fact, the spiked medieval thingamabob wedged in the pulp that used to be his brainpan was the likely cause of death.

"What the hell?!" I yelled.

"Read the nametag."

I looked. _Hi! My name is Bob!_ It declared.

"Ah, _fuck._" I croaked as my hand passed through my dead body.

"Told ya so."

**READ AND REVIEW!**

:: NOTE :: The Crappy Plastic Paragraph was courtesy of Literary Alchemist.


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